Can I be enigmatic, relevantas a tiny ball of fission in the dark art of nothing?Can I pull up all the lures and rule this aching planetby proxy, without fumbling in ugly desperation like an old decrepit dictator hiding from the throng?

Stone me in old testament fists, it won't matter; I'll laugh and lantern myself in pink stockings and garter, shocking with blush wounds, frosting my doe eyes in feather blood. Stretch mine out to their wildest dimensions,flattening ovals in weepy oceans, and I'll lay deep in the bottom of your gravity well. Crush me together and I'll learn how to beg you to winter my brushfire and smother my lips to their plumbs in a black-lightfor today God is Man, and I'm made just for staggering

(life.)

Loom me with lusciousand vibrating fronds that open like tonguesin soft war of words. It does not demean me to admit that I am arc-less, cold circuitry,a prism in the dark, stolid and spoiling from unspent evolutions that crown from my skulland spill into the void; every nightspent aloneis a genocide. Will you listen when I cry for the crackling white, threaten you with expulsion from Armageddons and Edens? What words will be written if I'm not made your muse, or made into an animal,if there's no stretch of drum to make song of my collapse?

From birth I've been crestfallen by the cravings of a universe that etherealises me and my cruel design with the dreamworks of a manic prayer.And who will live with this snake-logic stuck in their cells,a genetic heresy that bores keyholes in the fleshand still pass me on the streets, eying my temple, without falling prone to the death of ideals (and marry obsession)? Who will wrestle for my domain, my dominion, my ten thousand centuries of covenants with light? Who will grab me and calm my scattering womb,unfold my intentions, unleash all my magic?

Put into my own dimension, free of your tangents, of your wild, feral growthof your love and your scorn and your purple grip, I'll become a worthless testimonialist, quantifying realities of death, weeping my finality back into clouds. I need newpuncturing,burn of your intelligenceor my will to care for what follows uswill perish in the desuetude of wasted genesisalong with the organ that hopes like the sun and those pale,stupid fingers that pile sandcastles on beaches, making monuments to temporal insubstantiality.

Don't tell me our Earth will be fine without me, some happy divorce. For I am its dreamer, its philosopher queen! I'm never unnatural, like some foreign agency, terrorist of the soulthreatening my Mother with teenage suicide. Don't tell me I'm wicked or unbecoming, or that I don't trundle the beautiful tragedy of every moment in my eyes;the very memories of God.

Don't leave me alone (with my unopened gift.)

But I will be alone. See the weight, unaccustomed, like ancient stones etching my cheekbones with regret. I'll lay next to the fount and stare into the darkest pitch you can cast; I won't even remember what I was (looking) for. Everything will be flat and motionless, with a paper ash depth. And nothingness will happen in the next one hundred trillion years, and none of it will matter to me (and I was all that mattered).I will see how all promising biology is simply a talismanic organ of a gigantic dead forever,a nonexistent particle floating in a bowl of inert stardust, an enzyme for a chemical that never left the maker's desk drawer. But here I am anyway, stalling for your time and your cold-hearted smile.Here I am, and if anything was ever realin this lieof my sexit's that I am a half,

this is a poem that i've wanted to write for a long time. it was inspired by a poem i read on dA awhile back by someone i watch - i can't remember the name of her poem, something like "if i were a man". but it appears she's deleted it, so i cannot link you to it. oh well. enjoy.

What does it mean? All of it? I suppose the simplest answer is that it is self-analysis disguised as gender role reversal fantasy.I am reveling in the idea of womanhood by using absurb exaggerations and wildly romanticized notions.

The poem it was inspired by was very different in terms of style but had a similar intent, I believe.

"Stretch mine out to their wildest dimensions,flattening ovals in weepy oceans, and I'll lay deep in the bottom of your gravity well." - wow

This piece is such a mixed bag - all the good and all the bad = (wo)man Sometimes I feel this so much: "every nightspent aloneis a genocide. "

Fuck this made me teary : "Will you listen when I cry for the crackling white, threaten you with expulsion from Armageddons and Edens? What words will be written if I'm not made your muse, or made into an animal,if there's no stretch of drum to make song of my collapse?" - it's so painfully beautiful and polar.

Without even finishing this rediculously amazing and epitomizing piece I added it to my folder of "godly things" - this happened when I read these lines: "From birth I've been crestfallen by the cravings of a universe that etherealises me and my cruel design ...snake-logic stuck in their cells,a genetic heresy that bores keyholes in the fleshand still pass me on the streets, eying my temple, without falling prone to the death of ideals (and marry obsession)? "

"weeping my finality back into clouds."this piece just keeps hitting me so wildly in the heart!

"along with the organ that hopes like the sun" ohhh yes, yes!

"Don't tell me our Earth will be fine without me, some happy divorce." -- so plath, i adore it!

"or that I don't trundle the beautiful tragedy of every moment in my eyes;the very memories of God." - dear god, i am so moved right now!You are the best writer on dA : FACT!

I will see how all promising biology is simply a talismanic organ of a gigantic dead forever,a nonexistent particle floating in a bowl of inert stardust, an enzyme for a chemical that never left the maker's desk I'm so glad i reread this...this is your best piece, Shane - I'm so proud of you!

Wow, I can't tell you how happy I am that you came back to this! I held out hope that you'd give it another shot.

Yay! I made it to Godly Things! I hold this as the most exclusive of galleries I've ever had a piece featured in. I'm honored, of course.

Yes, it is the good and the bad. But I tried to share my fascination with all things women, including the beauty and viciousness they inspire in men, the wicked poles that are magnetized in their presence, the philosophies they engender, the religions they set aloft or set ablaze. This is really about my envy for women, lol. And if i'm going to pretend to be one, I can't leave anything out, though I could have written a thousand pages of this and still not scratched the surface of how I feel about them, and the few prototypes that I admire the most.

Best writer?? Haha! You know what my response to that is - I'm almost at your level.

Thank you so much for giving me your thoughts on this - it's such a rush to hear them.

omgosh Shane, I see what you mean when you asked if I had read the poem after the update - it's wonderful! In fact, if I wasn't about to go to bed I was going to try and tackle an actual crit in your honor. You know that's not something I say lightly. However, there's no request up for a critique!

Well, perhaps during breaks between my writing project I could work on some notes long-hand (like I did for your July haiku set) and come up with my thoughts.

when you say your poetry is too political do you mean too politically unpopular or perhaps editorializing? i mean, i think the dA lit community is generally accepting of all types of opinion pieces, assuming there's no hate mongering or bigotry.

Maybe editorializing... I think of myself as a "radical centrist" I don't pull punches but I'm satirical more than anything. Liberals and conservatives would probably be offended. But I like to stay under the radar so to speak.

I take your suggestion... art is my means of protest, the inequities of neo-liberal liquid modernity. Thanks! I may not get around to posting instantly but my written work is as important to me as my visual arts. I don't cater to phony-political correctness, I satire how I see it, just people take things so seriously.

As a member, you can't submit something to Featured. An admin needs to select it to be featured there. I have the power. But I also have the needed objectivity, and your poem definitely deserves to be there.

I hope that answers your questions. If not...please feel free to note me.

I've been writing with spiritual undertones since I was a teen. Most of the obvious ones don't make it here, but some of the more subtle ones do. If you look close enough you can find them. I had a spiritual piece that I've struggled to finish for several weeks, that after reading your piece, I was able to finally finish the last few lines of it. I owe you a huge thanks. Maybe I'll post it here when I'm completely satisfied with it.